


don't talk (put your head on my shoulder)

by reedyas



Series: god only knows [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Depression, First Kiss, M/M, Replacements, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 18:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20214364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedyas/pseuds/reedyas
Summary: Don't talk, put your head on my shoulderCome close, close your eyes and be still





	don't talk (put your head on my shoulder)

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory this is based on the HBO miniseries, not the actual historical figures.

Dropping into Holland after weeks of training and resting in England is a strange experience for Nix. There’s something about the optimism for Operation Market Garden that makes him scratch his head a little bit. The feeling doesn’t go away when they drop into that clear, open field on a sunny autumn day, so different than their jump into France. 

Eindhoven is an odd experience as well. The officers are overwhelmed trying to get the men through the crowds of celebrating Dutch, Nix included.

He doesn’t think about how uncomfortable the sight of men shaving the heads of the women who slept with the Krauts or the Dutch Resistance’s use of children for intelligence makes him feel. It’s war –morals of polite society tend to go out the window during war.

Later that day, something sinks in Nix’s gut when they pull up to Nuenen. The men are falling back, the quaint Dutch town on fire and crumbling from intense artillery blasts. He hops off the truck and heads towards the front of the convoy, searching for familiar faces. He sees a wounded Buck in the back of the jeep, and mutters a curse under his breath. 

Nix spots a familiar figure crying out _Hurry up, hurry up! Let’s go, let’s go!_ at the dozens of men running from the explosions behind them. Dick looks unharmed, but the men look shaken.

“How bad?” Nix asks, leaning up against one of their tanks. He wonders if today will finally be the day he fires his gun. 

“I don’t know yet,” Dick replies, sounding strained and worried. His chest feels hot at the thought of the mission everyone was so confident in going south.

The tip of a hot knife skims his forehead and a loud _PLINK_ rattles in his ears. The force knocks him back onto the road, the gravel crunching beneath him. He blinks, dazed at the sudden impact and the fact that he could still see.

“Nix!” Dick is beside him in a second, eyes wide and panicked in a way Nix had never seen them before.

He hears himself say, “I’m alright, I’m alright,” and starts to push himself up, elbows shaking underneath him. 

Dick grasps Nix’s arm with a shaking hand and cradles on the side of his face with the other. He’s trembling as his eyes roam over Nix’s face, looking for a bullet hole. His lips are parted, ready to call for a medic at any sign of a wound. The look on Dick’s face makes Nix’s breath hitch in his throat and his stomach plummets like it never has before. 

“Am I alright?” Nix pants, searching Dick’s bloodshot green eyes for any signs that he might not be alright. 

Dick pats his arm and exhales shakily. “Yeah. Yeah, you feel alright?” His hand is still cupping the side of Nix’s head, and Nix wants nothing more than to lean into the safety of his touch. 

He catches himself, acutely aware that of the bullets that zing past them. Tearing his gaze away from Dick, he shuffles back from the hand cupping his face on shaking elbows and sweaty palms. “Yeah – quit looking at me like that!” Nix exclaims.

Nix inches away, stumbles getting up, moves against the side of the tank, his heart pounding in his ears. He pants, not paying attention to what Dick and Lipton are saying. Their voices seem far away. He’s actively not thinking about the burning sensation on his forehead. He overhears Randleman is missing.

The rest of the day is a blur when actively not thinking about the burning sensation on his forehead.

…

The liberation of Eindhoven isn’t a liberation anymore when the Krauts bomb it to pieces. The yellow and orange flames dance on the horizon. The scent of gunpowder and burnt wood hang low in the air, mingling in with the fog hovering above the grass. 

“They’re bombing Eindhoven.” Dick looks exhausted, even from the back. Nix can tell by the way he holds his shoulders high, but without the usual sense of conviction or confidence.

“Yeah.” _It’s a damn shame,_ Nix wants to say.

Dick turns and walks away from the flames in the distance, slightly brushing against his shoulder. “Come on Nix, we’ll dig in for  
the night.”

Nix can’t take his eyes off the city in the distance but tears them away to follow Dick. “Won’t be waving so many orange flags at  
us tomorrow,” he mutters under his breath.

Digging a foxhole with Dick is a welcome physical distraction from actively not thinking about the burn on his forehead. He likes feeling his muscles pushing and pulling, working to dig a hole in the mud. Neither he nor Dick say anything, both focused on the task at hand.

Once the foxhole is big enough, Nix settles in for the night, placing his helmet and pack in the mud next to him. He takes a swig from his flask, the whiskey warming his stomach. Dick sits down next to him and runs a hand through his hair. Dick’s shoulder is sturdy and warm against his, and Nix wants nothing more than to cling to him as if Dick is a rock and he’s about to be swept down a raging river. 

That’s how he feels sometimes, that Dick is the only thing anchoring him to reality. Sometimes Nix feels as if he watches his whole life as some tragic comedic play. His father’s pocketbook could get him anything in the world, and yet there was always a deep sort of sadness that came out whenever it was too quiet, or whenever he had too much time to think. It came out less frequently after he met Dick, though. Since meeting Dick, the sadness didn’t come out quite as often. Nix didn’t have time for that, not when there were jokes to crack or intel to provide.

“Best get some sleep,” Dick says into the quiet night. Part of the sky burns brown and orange, and wind carries the stench of burning wood towards their camp.

“Almost smells like camping,” Nix says.

“You went camping?” Dick asks incredulously. 

“It was one time with my Yale buddies, and I wouldn’t call it camping, since we were only gone one night and were drunk before we were able to set up the tent.”

Dick snorts and shakes his head, and Nix can imagine the smirk on his face. They sit in silence, listening to the far away sounds of artillery shells. If Nix closes his eyes, he almost feels safe. He absentmindedly runs his thumb across the burn mark on his forehead, wincing slightly. 

He wonders why he’s not dead, why his brains aren’t strewn all over that goddamn dirt road. He swallows thickly as his hands start to shake.

“How does it feel?” Nix looks over to find Dick staring at him intently, eyes wide and focused on the mark. He shivers when Dick’s mud coated finger lightly touches it.

“Fine,” he clips, not liking the funny look Dick has on his face. He’s used to seeing Dick calm, cool, and collected. Now he looks as if he’s about to burst. “How are you?” Nix asks, knowing the casualties and missing members of Easy were weighing on him.

“We’ve all been better,” he murmurs, lifting his finger from Nix’s forehead and staring at it. “Nix, when I saw you fall, I –“

“Can we not?” Nix asks, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump in his throat. He doesn’t like thinking about this. He doesn’t  
want to think about this. He opens his eyes and stares at their mud coated boots.

“No. Listen to me.” Dick grasps his arm, pulling Nix so he slightly faces him. “Look at me.”

Nix’s eye flicker towards Dick’s face, cautiously meeting Dick’s green eyes. They’re almost the same shade as a piece of sea glass. 

He’s still thinking about sea glass when Dick places a hand on the side of his face and presses his lips against Nix’s. Dick’s lips are chaste and soft, leaving Nix frozen as a tender feeling swells in his chest. 

Dick pulls back, eyes wide with another new look that Nix has never seen before. He realizes he hasn’t blinked and isn’t registering what Dick is saying.

“Nix, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that I’m –“

Nix shuts him up by pressing his mouth to Dick’s, kissing him properly this time. Nix can’t even begin to process how fucking overwhelmed he is, and proceeds to place soft, slow kisses on Dick’s parted lips. A new type of energy flows through Dick kisses him back, slower and sweeter. 

Nix thinks that maybe he did die, and this is his brain’s last hurrah before kicking the bucket. Or maybe, something fell through the cracks with the man upstairs and he was in Heaven.

Then artillery booms nearby, causing the two to stop, stiffen, and listen for any sounds of nearby movement. It quiets down, but they can still hear the voices of the men on the ridge nearby.

Dick lowers his hand from Nix’s face, eyes flickering downward as a small blush rises in his cheeks. Nix smirks as he glances down at Dick’s hand still on his elbow, and he places his hand on top of Dick’s, softly running his thumb over the dirt and grime on the back of his hand. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Dick murmurs, a soft smile in his voice.

The back of Nix’s neck feels hot as he feels his mouth widen into a soft grin. “You’re something else, huh?” He wants to kiss Dick until their lips are raw, wants to feel the solid muscle under his pale skin, wants Dick to make noises for him he’s never made before.

And yet, they’re here. In a muddy foxhole, with dozens of men milling about, mourning their friends or worrying about a certain sergeant. Nix almost wants to laugh at the absurdity.

He starts to chuckle lightly, and when Dick gives him a funny look, he reaches over and grabs his free hand, squeezing lightly.  
Dick squeezes back, his palm warm and caked in mud in his. 

They sit quietly, listening for camp to calm down around them. Beside him, Dick settles in and relaxes against Nix. He rests his head on Nix’s shoulder and exhales slowly, letting out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding forever. 

Nix smiles and closes his eyes, not wanting to think about anything else besides Dick’s lips against his and theirs fingers intertwined in his lap. He brushes a thumb across the back of Dick’s knuckle, thankful to be alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this beautiful Beach Boys Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gikGLzkKElw) from Pet Sounds because why the hell not
> 
> Thank you for reading! Find me on tumblr at takeiteasie if you wanna cry about these two with me.


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